


What's to Follow

by HarperJean



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Abortion, Cemetery, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Grief, Ilse and Melchi, Purple Summer, Suicide, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Those You've Known, graveyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperJean/pseuds/HarperJean
Summary: Ilse finds Melchior in the graveyard.





	What's to Follow

_A song of what’s to follow, the glory of the spring._

Ilse walked quietly up to the heap of clothes she saw in between the tombstones, wondering if there was a body inside. The sun was just starting to rise over the hills to the east, casting the cemetery in a silvery glow, the mist still covering the ground. 

“Melchi?” 

She recognized the mess of auburn curls and the way his body curled into itself. The heap didn’t move. 

“Melchi??” She said again, louder and more forcefully. She placed the fresh bouquet of wildflowers down on the grass, and knelt beside her oldest friend. His eyelids fluttered. 

“Wendla?” He asked groggily. 

Ilse shook her head sadly, and glanced to the nearest tombstone; Wendla’s final resting place. “It’s me, Melchi. What are you doing here?” 

She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently guided him up to a seated position, marks all over his face from laying on the ground for seemingly the whole night. She brushed the grass and twigs out of his hair, laughing at the absurdity of it. 

“I was...I was supposed to meet her here tonight. I sent you with the letter.” 

“I know...I’m sorry. She was already gone. I tried to find you in the woods last night to tell you but...I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“How did she die?” 

“Anemia,” Ilse responded with a shrug. 

“You know as well as me that isn’t true,” he said solemnly, stealing a glance at the grave. Her body was down there. Her small body that would never get to know the joy of a summer coming through the valley where there town was ever again. The sun was getting higher. The mist was beginning to burn off. 

Melchi’s eyes pleaded with Ilse. Everyone knew that she had a knack for seeing things that were supposed to remain hidden. She knew about Martha’s bruises and she knew about Moritz before anyone found the body. She was the one that ran back to town to tell the officials…”there is a boy in the woods with no head. Go find him. I’ll tell his father. No...I will tell his father.” 

Ilse took a deep breath and began to speak. Other than Wendla’s mother and the doctor, she was sure she was the only one who knew the truth. But Melchior deserved to know. 

“Her mama took her to get rid of the baby. I saw them walking into an alleyway, and I know that’s what happens in the back room they went into. I’ve seen it happen before.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“They...they cut the baby out of you.” 

Melchior shuddered. 

“Then a few days later, everyone stopped seeing her. I went to get a letter to bring to you, and she looked pale and thin, like...like something had happened to her. I asked her what was wrong, and she just said she had taken ill. She didn't write you a letter that time. A week later…” She trailed off, not quite meeting Melchi’s intense stare. 

“So you think…”

“An infection, if I were to guess. She didn’t...she looked awful. At the end.” 

Fresh tears sprung to Melchior’s eyes. Ilse leaned over and grabbed the wildflowers she had been carrying. 

“I come here every day with new flowers for them.” 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Ilse.” 

He crumpled into her, laying his head on her lap and crying into her dress. She stroked his hair and felt moisture dripping down her own face. She hadn’t cried yet. About either of them. 

“I don’t even know if my parents are going to let me come home.” 

“I’m sure they will,” she said reassuringly, her voice catching in her throat. “Here.” She nudged him back up and handed him half of her flowers. “These can be from you.” 

He took the flowers. They were blue and red, vibrant against the silver morning sky. Ilse stood up and held out her hand to help him stand. He complied, heaving his body up, his clothes still crumpled. “We’ll figure it out,” she said. “I don’t think they’ll ever really be gone.”   
“How do you know?” He asked weakly. 

“I still see Wendla in these blue flowers that are growing around the fences in town,” she said, motioning towards the flowers she had just laid on the grave. “I see her in the woods too, sometimes. When I peek up through the trees and the sky is shimmering passed the leaves. It reminds me of her laugh. When we were little, remember? She was always laughing.” She walked a few rows over to Moritz, and laid down the rest of the bouquet. “I see Moritz too, sometimes. Or rather, I hear him. When I’m walking into town on the gravel road...you know the one. The crunch of that. And the howl of the wind when I’m running back to Priapia.” 

“You saw him last.” 

“I did,” she nodded somberly. “I miss him, you know.” 

“Me too. I thought I saw him last night, but I think it was only a trick of the light.” 

“The moon does crazy things.” 

“Walk to town with me?” 

“Of course.” 

Melchi reached out for Ilse’s hand, and the two of them walked back into town, passed the church, around the school yard. They stood outside of his house. 

“They’re not gone.” 

Melchi looked over at Ilse and repeated her words. “They’re not gone.”


End file.
